Fairytale of Arcadia Bay
by Lyta Halifax
Summary: After emerging from her coma and revealing the truth of her recent experiences to Chloe, Max suddenly finds herself with a heart nearly breaking and on the verge of leaving Arcadia Bay forever. Now, it's up to Chloe to pull off a Christmas Eve miracle, and convince Max that sometimes fairytales do come true. [A holiday-themed coda to Riotgrrls in Love]


_**Spoiler Warning:** Hey gang. This piece acts as a "holiday special" for the whole Riotgrrls in Love trilogy, so if you haven't read The Never-Ending Sacrifice, The Ever-Ending Sacrifice, and Riotgrrls in Love first, I would strongly suggest you do so first, or you're probably going to be hella confused.  
_

* * *

In the light of the late morning sun, Max stared down, watching the dull and sickly rainbows slithering through the sheen of oil on the bare asphalt of the bus depot. Head in her hands, elbows on her knees, exhausted, but far more in mind than body; she was continuing to recover from the weeks she'd spent in her unusual coma, and was still pleasantly surprised at how quickly her strength and stamina were returning.

 _Now, if only someone could do something about my heart._

It weighed heavy in her chest, fractures spidering out across its surface. Not quite broken, but she wondered what could possibly be holding it together at this point.

Precious little, that was for damn sure.

Max reached up, dashing a fresh wave of tears from her eyes as she recalled the events in the diner, a scant few days ago. The tale she shared with Chloe, of one fantastic week in October. The things the two of them did, the lies and secrets they'd uncovered. The mischief they'd gotten into, and the close calls they'd managed to dodge. She told of how they'd fought and struggled and suffered, only for her to be forced to wipe it out completely at the end.

There was more after that, of course, but what did it matter? Not when it was apparent now that everything after the point where she'd been shot by Nathan was little more than some sort of fantastic dream. A shock-induced hallucination.

 _Still seems so real though. Can't really shake it._

Memories of that time faded away, only to come roaring back in dreams, night after night. She'd wake up, gasping, fumbling around in the dark for her composition book, desperate to commit to paper whatever fragments she'd recovered. Maybe none of it actually happened, but it felt real to her, damnit! And that had the count for something.

Right?

But she'd told Chloe enough. Everything that she'd possibly want or need to know, about how she felt about her, about the relationship the two of them had by the time Max willingly offered herself up as a sacrifice. And in the back of her mind, she'd told herself she had faith. That no matter what would happen, she would always love Chloe Price, and she knew, in time, that Chloe would love her, again. Sure, it'd be a struggle. There would be the disbelief, time needed to process…

" _I know this all sounds crazy, Chloe. But I swear to you, every word, every bit, is the Dog-honest truth."_

Max thought she could have anticipated any and all possible reactions from her friend and one-time lover. Even though much of their time together was now nothing more than a fever-dream, she still clung to the notion that it might there was more, so much more to it, than that; maybe a dip into an alternate reality, a vision of a future that never was. Something much more than mere fantasy.

But she was completely blindsided when Chloe suddenly rose up, and glanced over towards her with shame in her eyes.

" _S-sorry. Max. I just can't handle...this. Not now. I'm - I'm sorry!"_

Chloe slowly slunk away, until she hit the door, at which point her feet suddenly carried her off; the blunette didn't run per se, but it was clear that something drove her to try and put as much distance between herself and the Two Whales in as short a time as possible.

Max was struck numb, and it was a good hour before the tears would finally flow. She spent the early evening hugging herself in the shower, praying that the roar of the hot spray would drown out her sobbing, as she mourned and wondered how she could have been so wrong? How she could have so foolishly thought that the girl at the diner, the one she barely knew, could be the same one she'd given her heart and soul to, forever and yesterday ago.

 _Stupid! I am so fucking stupid! How could she do this to me!? We were in love once, weren't we? I mean, not in my dream, but during that week in the alternate timeline. How could she do this to me? Chloe,_ my _Chloe...would never…!_

But her memory of the past had become something of a scoundrel as of late; a collection of twisted impressions and recollections that she was now beginning to question with greater frequency and increasing despair.

 _Did I see only the things I wanted to see? Was it all just in my mind? I kissed her once, when she dared me, and then again when we made up our minds, that I'd go back in time and wipe the slate clean._

Her heart ached with frustration, her emotions ran hot and angry through her blood. Was that all it was? Daydreams? The wishful thinking of some lovestruck little girl!? Was she nothing more than a delusional freak who dreamed up a perfect little fairytale world to live in while she fought to cling to life in the real world after being shot? What if her mind simply fabricated the whole 'time powers' bit as well? What if the only event that was actually occurred was that she stopped Nathan from killing someone, someone who suddenly turned out to be her best friend, and everything else was the mad ravings of a damaged brain sputtering and gasping from a lack of blood.

But still…

She so desperately needed Chloe, _her_ Chloe. Whomever it was that she'd left behind, in those impossibly real imagings deep down in her subconscious. The wonderful, thoughtful, amazing, infuriating, gorgeous soulmate that she _thought_ she'd spent the better part of two years with.

 _Lies! Nothing but lies!_

No way, would _her_ Chloe have left her like that. Running away like a coward!

Which just mean that her Chloe never existed at all, as anything other than the artifice of a foolish heart.

And yet, part of her still needed to believe; desperately dared to hope against hope.

Whatever was going on in her head, it was clear she needed to get the hell away from Arcadia Bay. Go home, soak up the familiar sights and sounds of Seattle, the city that'd been her home for almost a third of her life. There were friends there, real friends, and family. She'd totally hit up the Space Needle, and scarf up a whole box of Voodoo Donughts, and…

"God...damnit!" she suddenly cried out, her voice hot and quavery. Her head shot back up, and eyes scanned over the desolate outdoor bus terminal, with its cracked and peeling paint, decrepit 1960's architecture, and sun-faded posters. The horribly uncomfortable wood and metal bench, barely sheltered by the yellowing plexiglas shed.

It looked as pathetic as she felt.

 _I have to get the hell away from this town. At least for a while. Go back home for Christmas._

Because wallowing in misery, self-pity and anger wasn't doing wonders for her, that was for damn sure. She'd get on that bus, the one that should be arriving any minute now, and then?

It'd be a while before she returned.

Maybe she'd never come back again.

" _Let the grasses grow and the waters flow in a free and easy way!/But give me enough of that rare old stuff, that's made near Galway bay!"_

Max glanced up and over at the ancient, feeble-looking man heading her way. In mismatched and ill-fitting winter clothes, he appeared to be deranged, drunk, or possibly both. As he let whatever song he was warbling out die on his lips, he looked to her and spoke, breath reeking of alcohol.

"There there, girly. No need to be looking so down. 's Christmas Eve." He pulled out a bottle from under his coat, took a nip, and muttered to himself, "Won't see another one." He held the bottle out to her, but Max turned her face away, covering it up with her hands. She gave a short, soft sob.

She wanted Chloe. _Her_ Chloe. All this town held for her now was a million little reminders of a blue haired girl she didn't really know anymore, and a reality that never existed. At the same time, Max couldn't shake the feeling that her Violet-Haired Chloe was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found again. Max wanted to be wrapped up in her arms, and comforted. Loved, and reassured that they'd never be apart again.

The pounding of feet running at a steady clip broke her from her revere. Looking up, she spied Chloe running down the side of the road. The blunette skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into her.

"Jesus fuuuuuuuck. Parking for this shithole sucks! Anyhow - huh, uh….fuck!" Chloe crumpled slightly to the left, rubbing her side as she labored to catch her breath.

Max quickly rubbed the tears out of her eyes, tilting her head towards the other girl with only the minimum amount of effort required to regard her. She wasn't sure what to say, and instead let her current resting-bitch-face expression speak volumes on her behalf.

Chloe spoke haltingly, still out of breath. "H-hey. Sorry! Look, sorry, okay?" She held up her hands in submissive ascent. "That was bad, that was shitty. I fucked up. I know it's been a few days and I should have come and found you earlier to say something but...I'm here now...Jesus shit."

Max winced as Chloe collapsed onto the remaining scrap of bench, crowding her uncomfortably close. She glanced over towards the other man, giving him her best 'would you fucking mind?' glare, grateful when he gave a knowing nod and shuffled over to the side.

"Anyhow," Chloe continued. "Came to see you, but you were leaving your dorm. I tried to call out, but…" she shrugged.

Max blinked, her frown deepening as she stared down hard at the ground. In a tired, angry voice, she responded, "That was over an hour ago, Chloe. Maybe two. What the hell, you could have caught up to me. Maybe offer me a ride? Had to walk the whole way, 'cause none of the fucking cabs in this shitty town are picking up today."

She wasn't sure she would have accepted a ride from Chloe, but she couldn't deny it felt good to twist the knife a little.

Again, Chloe nodded. "I know. Shit, I know. But...but look, there's a reason." She unzipped her leather bikers jacket, reached in and extracted a standard black composition book. Max immediately recognized it as her dream journal. The one she'd been writing in almost daily, any time a flash of remembrance of her 'other life' burbled up out of the miasma of her subconscious. She'd transferred what was scribbled down on her initial collection of paper scraps and sheets, and eventually forged a rough timeline of experiences and recollections; it wasn't perfect or complete. For some reason, she seemed to remember a great deal of events that occurred in what would be the upcoming summer of 2014, and into the autumn as well, but after that point? Almost nothing, until the day she 'woke up'.

"You musta dropped it or something. I picked it up, wanted to get it back to you."

Max scrambled to bend over as she checked her messenger bag. Much to her dismay, she found it left unsecured. After a quick perusal, she was relieved to discover nothing else had fallen out. Once she sat back up, her eyes bore into Chloe's and her worst fears were immediately confirmed.

She sputtered, "That was hours ago. You have a truck, so you could get here a lot faster than I could walk. What were you doing with the rest of the ti-." Max stopped short as she realized: "You...you fucking read it!"

Her journal; it was exceedingly personal, terribly private. Max felt her cheeks burn with indignation.

"I did. Yeah, I did. Another shitty thing you can blame me for. It's just - I didn't mean to! It musta fallen open when it hit the ground. So when I picked it up, I started reading some of it automatically and...well." Chloe gave a shake of her head and looked away, sheepishly. In a softer voice, she continued, "I wanted to understand. I knew there was more to what happened to you than what you told me at the diner. I just wanted to try and understand it better. Because I freaked, okay? All of it, everything you told me. The way you helped me find Rachel. How you almost died for me, and how you said we had this whole crazy week together that doesn't exist anymore. I hella freaked. I don't know how to explain it better than that." She pounded a frustrated fist against her thigh. "My legs just got the hell up out of that booth on instinct, and carried me away. And I knew by the time I made it to the door, that I'd totally fucked up, but then I got even more scared, and…"

Max all but ripped the book out Chloe's hands, angrily stuffing it back into her bag. "So you violated my privacy. Screw you!"

Chloe turned away, silent for a few seconds, before speaking without looking at her. "It just pulled me in. This other dream life you write about in there. You keep insisting to yourself it wasn't real but...you write like you know me. I mean, _know_ me. Better than I know myself. 'Cause there's shit in there, that I don't know how you could know about. Like that story about the tattoo parlor in Nevada? SaGa, the place that Roy Olafson owns? That's real!"

Max paused. It hadn't occurred to her to check any of her dream details online. Certainly, she knew the Luxor was a real hotel, and she'd discovered there actually was a shop in Denver called The Green Solution, but that was such an obvious choice for a name, she didn't give it much thought as anything other than a coincidence. But this…

She didn't want to face the possibility of what it could mean. Not yet.

"So?" she huffed coldly. "So what? Maybe I knew about it too? Maybe you told me about it while I was in my coma, so ended up in my dream."

"Well first off, no. Never said a thing. But SaGa? Well," Chloe responded. "It's hella elite. Not the kind of place that people know about. I mean, unless you're into tattoos, and you know your shit! I always dreamed of going to see it someday. I even started drawing a few tatts, like stuff I would get, as a special thing. I kinda had this dream, that I'd go there, ask for Roy, and he'd do it, and maybe we'd talk; maybe we'd even have this awesome moment where we connected, and he'd take me under his wing. You - serious as fuck, Max, you could not have known _anything_ about all that. Way you write in your journal, you act like you never heard of the place before. But...fuck. You knew _all this shit_ , anyhow!"

Max hugged herself tight, a sudden gust of wind cutting through her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, willing herself to keep hating Chloe, to just tune her out and ignore what she was trying to say, trying to do.

 _I don't know if I can take anymore. Hurts too much._

The bus, the one she was waiting for, the one that would take her away to Seattle, finally pulled into the depot.

"Thanks for bringing my book back." Max husked out, her tone less confrontational. "I would have been ripshit pissed if I lost that. For cereal. Anyhow. This is me, so...see ya."

She rose to her feet, but was prevented from taking a step forward, as Chloe's hand seized her left wrist.

"Max? Don't. Don't go. Please? Not like this."

She didn't struggle, at least for the moment. She figured she had a good few minutes to get aboard.

"That's rich, coming from you." she spat out.

"Okay! I get it! I know, alright? I suck. The last thing I should be asking you to do is not walk away from me. But please. Stay, okay? Just...I can't say why. I don't understand it, but all I know is that if you walk onto that bus, I'll probably never see you again. Five years, Max. Five years, and we drifted apart. You come back into my life, and it's all flipped upside down, turned around, and crazy." Chloe gave a shy, pained smile. "But it's kinda cool, too. You know? My life was a goddamn broken mess before you came back into it. I'm trying to make sense of all this impossible shit. Make sense of you, with your stories, the things you tried to tell me, and what you wrote down in that book."

Chloe swallowed hard, scratched at the side of her face, and continued, "There's a Chloe in there, and I can't believe it could ever be me. Someone who's so happy, and she's got a job she loves and this amazing life. Happy, and free, and…" She stopped short, her voice choking for a moment, before she breathed out. "I don't want you to walk out forever, and spend the rest of my life saying 'I could have been someone.'"

"Well, so could anyone." Max said, feigning cold indifference. "You don't need me around for you to follow whatever dreams you have. They aren't mine. I'm not taking anything away from you" But the words felt fraudulent to her, as soon as they left her lips. She wouldn't admit to herself yet, but there was still a part of her, deep inside, looking for some excuse, any excuse, to keep from walking out of Chloe's life forever.

"A day. Just give me a day, alright? That's all I'm asking. Time to reconnect. We were best friends once, and I'd like - can we at least try to patch things up at that level? Give me one more chance? The rest of today, that's all I'm asking. I'll buy you a ticket for the last bus of the day, if you still want to go home afterwards."

Max took a long, labored breath as she glanced up towards the heavy, grey clouds in the sky. She closed her eyes as large flakes of snow began to fall.

 _I really_ should _just get on the bus now. But I guess if she's willing to pay for the next one…_

"Fine. Give me a minute, okay? Uh, I gotta call my folks." Gathering her things, Max walked over towards the depot building before pulling out her cell phone. It took a bit of doing, convincing her folks she'd simply woken up too late and missed her chance to leave in the morning.

"Dad. No….no! Please, no. You don't have to drive down all the way to Arcadia Bay to pick me up. By the time you got here, the evening bus'll leave anyhow. I mean, that's sweet, Daddy, but I'm fine. Honest."

"You don't sound fine. I know you've been through a lot, kiddo." Ryan softly responded.

"I know. But just trust me, okay? One way or the other, I'll be home for the holidays." She glanced over at Chloe, still crouched on the bench. "Tomorrow or the next day. I super, pinky-swear promise!"

After ending the call, she walked back towards Chloe and said. "Alright. For the day."

Chloe rose up to her feet, zipped her jacket up, and smiled. "Hella awesome! So. What should we do?"

"Dunno. It's Christmas Eve, not a lot of options. I mean, what is this for you, a first date?"

Max mostly regretted the peevish way she phrased the question.

But not entirely.

Chloe scrunched up her eyes, clearly growing frustrated. She straightened up, forced herself to chill out, and then replied, "It's just spending time together. We don't have to talk about any of all this weird stuff that's suddenly hanging over us. Rachel, and you getting shot, and whatever, I mean, whatever it was, that happened between us." Chloe groaned softly, "I just wanna hang, dude. Like we used to. Can we start there, and see what happens? We used to be hella awesome at hanging."

Max winced at her sharp ache in her heart. The puppy dog eyes Chloe was using on her now caused a cascade of memories to rush up into the forefront of her mind; a thousand and one times that she'd used that exact same look on her when she wanted to get her way.

She wanted to hate her, this Chloe that wasn't her own. She wanted to convince herself that the girl in front of her was nothing like the woman in her precious memories. But she failed, at least for the time being.

Heaving a hard sigh, Max said, "Let me put my bags in a locker, and we'll go."

* * *

As they started to drive aimlessly through town, Chloe asked, "So, you eaten anything?"

"Just a protein bar on the way to the bus depot."

"Alright. You hungry now?"

Max shrugged. "I could eat. Just, not…"

"No Two Whales. Right. I got it. Uh, I'm kinda tired of diner food right now, anyhow."

Max nodded. She lead her head against the window, watching the snow whip past her, as she tried to figure out something that she was both in the mood for, and might be availble today.

"Huh. Chloe? What was the name of that Chinese restaurant? The place we went to, right before your Dad…?" She made herself stop short. It didn't seem fair to bring that tragedy up.

To her credit, Chloe didn't miss a beat. With a tiny smile on her lips, she replied, "What, you mean Lee's? You mean the _only_ fucking Chinese dump in this whole town?"

Max gave a short laugh; she hadn't meant, nor wanted to, but she couldn't help it. "Yeah, asshole. We could do that. I mean, they're legally required to be open today and tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. That's right. Okay, fine. Lee's it is. I gotta warn you, food hasn't gotten any better since you left town."

"You know we only went there for the jasmine tea and the fortune cookies." Max said.

"True. The tea's still pretty good. And the stupid, awesome paper cocktail umbrellas for our soda. Probably still give us all we want, if we asked."

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in Lee's Chinese. Max thought the place seemed frozen in time, with its tacky cherry red carpeting, obviously fake wooden paneling on the walls, and the tiny, uncomfortable tables that went perfectly with the tiny, uncomfortable chairs.

But the tea was still as delicious as Max remembered it being; anything hot to take the chill out of her heart and bones was welcome relief. She keep her attention focused on the porcelain cup because she couldn't bring herself to look straight at Chloe. Something had shifted so quickly, so viciously, after 'the walkout' at The Two Whales. In her mind, she still warred, finding herself wanting to be so terribly furious at this pretender to her heart's throne.

She then paused, taking a moment for self-reflection.

 _You're just pissed at her for being a real person, and not the dream girl you built up in your fantasy. Cut her some slack._

But was it all make-believe? Wasn't there something between them in that first time line, the one she had to take back? Didn't they kiss? She'd been through so much, her mind was still a muddled jumble at times: what was real now, and what was real only for her, and what wasn't real at all? Did she read too much into things, during that week in October? Was her memory playing tricks on her, making her believe only what she wanted to? As much as she desired to brush it aside, what Chloe told her back at the bus depot kept pecking away at the back of her mind.

 _Fuck, this is why I wanted to leave town. Get my head straight, figure out what's really…._

She sighed hard, casting her glance back towards Chloe, and her heart softened a touch. She couldn't help it. It was an instinct, a conditioned response. That was the worst, most insidious part of all.

 _Still, she came all the way to apologize, and bring my journal back. She's trying to make amends. And maybe if we at least hang as friends, I'll see if she's anything like I the way I remember. Maybe here, in the real world, we're just going to be friends, and then I can finally start picking up the pieces of my life and move on from what I've lost._

Chloe suddenly interjected, "This is the part where we'd start catching up after five years. But something tells me you probably know my story." She rolled her eyes, but gave a small smile all the same. "So tell me about Seattle?"

Max tilted her head quizzically. Her life in Seattle? Felt like years since she'd given it serious thought.

 _Might be a good exercise. Get me grounded in reality again._

So she spoke: about school, about the friends she made during her time. She felt she had to walk a fine line though, careful not to make it sound like she was rubbing whatever good times she had there in Chloe's face, when the blunette's own life was charting a far different and less pleasant course.

But Chloe was nothing other than attentive, interested, and even supportive.

"Huh! Alright, Fernando sounds kinda cool, actually. So were he and Kristin an item? Because you make it sound like maybe…" Chloe paused. "Are you okay?"

Max blinked, not having realized she'd zoned out. "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. Why, don't I look okay?"

Chloe shrugged. "Dunno. Hard to say. Can't put my finger on it, put your heart doesn't seem to be in this. I mean, you make it sound like you had a good life there, but I'm just not..." She rolled her eyes. "Gonna sound hella stupid, but I'm not feeling it from you."

Taking a long sip of tea, Max shook her head, trying to ignore how well and intuitively Chloe was reading her. "It's weird, I guess? I have the memories, and I'm talking about it, but I can't help but feel like I'm only repeating a story that was told to me a long time ago, about a stranger's life that isn't mine, but it was. You know? It was, not all that long ago. But now, I'm sitting here, telling you all this, and it feels clinical. As if I can't easily remember or believe the emotions behind the memories. And if none of them belong to me anymore, then who am I, really? We're all just nothing but our memories and experiences, but now I've got a head full of fake shit…"

She stopped short, draining her tea. Chloe was watching her with concern, but at the same town, shoveling her food - which Max found terribly rancid and greasy - into her mouth. Max laughed low, shaking her head, and tried to ignore the flood of memories that came rushing up to her. Of all the times, more than she could count, where _her_ Chloe had that exact same look on her face, as they shared far too many questionable meals in greasy spoons together.

Rubbing her head, Max gave a groan, and said, "Can we maybe talk about something else?"

Chloe wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and nodded. "Yeah. Sure, do something distracting, right?" Aimlessly, she glanced out the window, and whistled low. "Snow's really piling up out there. Oh! Shit, I know!" She smirked, leaned in, and in a sing-song voice, crooned, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Max blinked in confusion. "What? Why - how come you said it that way? Is that a thing? Am I supposed to get that?"

"Wait, seriously? You don't know about Frozen? I mean, it just came out last month, but I've already seen it twice." Chloe enthused. She immediately became animated with her hands as she continued, "Seriously, seriously, seriously, the best Disney movie ever!" She tilted her head and asked, "How do you not know about it?"

Max's jaw dropped, and her gaze practically screamed 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

"You kinda forget about the whole being in a coma for the whole month of November thing, Che?" She realized, several beats later, how she slipped up in using Chloe's pet name, and hissed softly at herself.

Chloe, to her credit, didn't blink. "I just assumed that in that other timeline, maybe you saw it?"

Max poured herself another cup of tea and bitterly responded, "That was only a bunch of crazy, made up shit. If I didn't know about it in the real world, of course I wouldn't have dreamed it."

The other girl gave a thin, crooked smirk that showed she didn't fully believe that, but wasn't willing to press the issue for now. Grabbing the last spare rib, she started to gnaw on it, and mumbled, "Fine then. Movie. Let's go, soon as we're done here. Probably catch the noon matinee. You gotta buy the popcorn though."

"Hah! I'm already paying for the chinese food."

"See!" Chloe said in a breezy, playful tone. "Look at what a cheap date I am!"

As one, they paused, eyes quickly meeting. Max wasn't sure who looked away first, as the flush of heat rose to her cheeks.

"Fine. A movie. Although I think we're getting a little old for Disney, don't you think?"

Chloe crossed her arms and canted her head to the side. "The fuck you say?"

Max smiled. "Yeah. I guess even _I_ don't really believe that, either."

* * *

A few hours later, Max and Chloe stepped out of the small, six screen theater that served as Arcadia Bay's only cinema.

Their spirits were considerably lifted.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Max warbled. "Do you - uh - come, er. Fuck. Line!"

Chloe quickly picked up the slack, with her noticeably superior singing voice, "Come on let's go and play. I never see you anymore, come out the door. It's like you've gone away…"

Max rolled her eyes, "Oh God, you totally bought the soundtrack to this movie, didn't you?"

The blunette didn't relent, clearly having committed the lyrics to memory. "We used to be best buddies. And now we're not. I wish you would tell me why!"

Swallowing hard, Max turned away, hugged herself and murmured, "A little too on the nose."

In response, Chloe suddenly trotted off towards her truck, and began scooping fresh powder off the hood. It was no longer snowing, but there was now a three inch accumulation blanketing the entire town.

 _At least it'll be a white Christmas. Can't remember the last time that happened here in Arcadia Bay._

Max had to admit she enjoyed the last couple of hours. In the hazy, patchwork quilt that currently acted as her memory, the last time she and Chloe were here, they'd engaged in a rather intense makeout session, and for the first few minutes they were there, it was all she could do to drive those old impressions and emotions from her mind. But once the movie started and gave her something to focus on, she felt something magical finally settle into place. For two hours, it was her and Chloe like they were kids again. Two friends, innocently watching an amazing movie, laughing and goofing around. Max occasionally had to elbow Chloe in the ribs to keep her from singing along, and on one occasion halfway through, they were approached by the usher, who asked them to keep the ruckus down.

Chloe returned, balancing a miniature snowman on the outstretched palm of her hand.

"So, _do_ you wanna build a snowman?"

Max playfully swatted the creation down to the ground, and said, "It doesn't have to be a snow _man_."

"Damn right!"

As they trotted across the street to the snow-covered beach, Chloe asked, "So good movie, right?"

"Yeah!" Max replied, a swelling tone of enthusiasm coloring her words as she spoke. "That's a lot better than I imagined. I especially liked the whole bit with Elsa and Anna, and how she's all 'Bitch, no you can't marry some jackhole you just met. Jesus fuck, _this_ is why I'm Queen and you're not!'"

Wasting no time and getting to work as soon as they arrived in an open snow patch, Chloe said, "And Elsa. Rowr. Hella gaaaaaaaaay. Right? Riiiight?"

"Durrrrr, y'think?" Max answered, before breaking out into a soft, singular laugh. "They weren't subtle about her big production number being this huge coming out statement."

"Hella gaaaay! Hella gay! Can't hold it back any moooore!" Chloe sang, before leaning down to roll a small snowball into a large base for their project. "I'd definitely warm her frosty heart."

The remark earned her a snowball in the back, five seconds later.

"Hey! What was that for!"

Max blinked, barely realized she'd acted out of - what? Jealousy?

 _...not_ my _Chloe. I don't have any claim on her, I don't have any excuse to be jealous. Shit! Get with it, Max._

"Uhhh, for being a pig?" Max quickly covered. "And because I had my eye on her first. Besides, you're clearly way more into Anna.

"Can't I have both?"

It was all Max could do to keep from smashing the snow bolder she was working on over Chloe's head in response. Instead, she joined it to the one Chloe had built, and then walked down the beach by herself, looking for branches and driftwood to serve as limbs.

In the few minutes she was alone, Max took deep, calming breaths, as she ruminated.

 _Still can't believe how chill Chloe is being about this. Arrrrg! Can't believe she read my dream journal! But, she did. And she's doing her best not to act too weird about it. I mean, how crazy is that? All this deep, intense, personal emotional stuff and she's not letting it freak her out. I mean, Jesus, where was that a few days ago? But, she's here now. This feels good, hanging out with her. Real. Which, by definition, has to be way better than these moony, lovestruck coma fantasies that have me so screwed up._

When Max returned with the branches she'd found, the snow-woman was mostly complete.

Definitely a woman, given the size of her chest.

"Geez, Chloe, go a little nuts on the boobjob? I thought we were just being transgressive here, not making snow-porn."

Chloe gave a languid roll of her shoulders, held out her hands, and said, "Hey, the snow's soft and sticky. I can't help how big it packs…"

She stopped. The two of them locked eyes, and it was almost two full minutes before they stopped laughing.

* * *

The late afternoon found them sitting on one of the benches near Lighthouse Point, overlooking the bay. Initially, Max was less than thrilled about returning to one of the most emotionally charged sites of her personal trauma, but much to her delight, she discovered that the blanket of snow removed much of the dark and sinister aura that the locale previously held for her.

"At least this time, it's the right season for snow." she murmured.

They cleared off a bench and sat down, observing the downtown area together.

"Hate to admit it, but it does look really pretty up here." Chloe said. "Covered in snow. Like something actually decent. But then it'll get slushy, and shitty, and terrible, just like this town really is."

"Oh hush." Max replied. "Enjoy the moment. It's gorgeous. Like a Norman Rockwell illustration or something. You know, he was from Western Massachusetts. We were going to go to Lee and Lennox, right after we…"

Max stopped short

 _Right after we got married FUCK. Stop this, Max. Stop it. None of it was real!_

"After we what?" Chloe inquired.

Max shook her head angrily and grumbled, "Nothing. Nothing, nothing. Sorry, I get confused. The nurses at the hospital kept telling me they were so shocked I woke up from my coma without any brain damage, but right now? I'm not so sure I did."

Chloe glanced at Max sideways; there were clearly a million things left otherwise unsaid on the tip of her tongue. After a few beats, she settled for a soft, "I believe you. You know? Whatever it is that happened to you. I don't know if what you went through was just a dream, or something more. I wasn't there, but….but I don't think you're crazy? Not anymore. And I'm sorry again, for the way I walked out on you. Does that help?"

Max brushed away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes. "Yeah. A little? I just wish I could be sure I wasn't going insane. Been through - ah God. Too much shit."

"Well here, I have an experiment. I think I read somewhere in your journal that you never tried weed until after - heh - after we started dating, when _I_ got out of the hospital. So let's hit it. You keep insisting you shouldn't be able to dream about experiences you haven't actually had, so…" With that, Chloe pulled out a pre-rolled joint.

Max shook her head and laughed harshly, "Wow. Yeah, leave it to you to use this as an opportunity to get baked."

Removing a Zippo lighter, Chloe planted the joint between her lips and muttered around it, "That's not a no."

"No. It's not. Fuck, gimma a hit then, sure."

Chloe took the first long, luxurious drag, the smoke and steam of her breath mingling together into white, cottony clouds as she exhaled. She passed it over, and Max eagerly accepted.

 _Fine. This should prove it, right? I vaguely remember getting stoned a bunch of times in that dream-whatever. Once I get stoned for real, for the first time in my life, I'll see it's nothing like I dreamed it was. That'll prove all this shit's just in my head._

She took a drag, shocked at the actions that her body performed as she did; the muscle memory kicking in. The instinct to sip her draws, so as not to overly irritate her throat or lungs. She held it in for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly, all the better to savor the citrusy tang on her tongue and lips.

Chloe took it back, and helped herself to another drag before asking, "So? How is it?"

"Is this Sour Diesel?" Max asked.

"Uh. Wow. Yeah, actually. I figured we needed a good sativa for the day trip. Huh. You really know your shit after all."

"I really shouldn't, Chloe. Not at all." Max said, as she started to focus intently on the tiny point of the bus depot in the downtown bay. "But this feels really familiar. Like an old, favorite song." She closed her eyes, the warm giddiness suffusing her body in short order. It was pleasant, to be sure, but it completely lacked any sort of novelty for her.

It was everything she expected it to be.

Still not looking directly at her, Chloe asked, "You still sure it was all only in your head? You seemed pretty convinced there was something more to it, when you're writing in your journal. Maybe you're only trying to tell yourself it wasn't real, so it doesn't hurt so much anymore. What you lost."

"What I lost?" Max angrily asked, in between another puff from the joint. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Max." Chloe said, in as gentle a tone as possible.

Max suddenly shot up onto her feet, and turned away from Chloe, a terrible, queasy knot building in her sternum. She closed her eyes tightly against whatever it was inside that rising up to her throat.

"Max?" Chloe asked.

Max covered her eyes with her hand, as a raging torrent of memories began to overwhelm her. Nights and days, triumphs and tribulations, disappointment and jubilation. Days and weeks and months, demanding to be reminisced in the span of but a few seconds. She fell to her knees, and despite, or possibly because of her altered mental state, she began to sob mournfully; softly at first, and then with greater intensity after each gulping breath.

She started speaking in frantic tones, at a jerking, frenetic pace. "I remember it, Chloe! Oh God! I remember almost everything now! All at once! I remember being so happy, and how good we were together! And how everything seemed to go our way! But...oh God. I didn't see it until now. I didn't see it, but the whole time, there was a tiny little voice inside, right in the back. It was trying to tell me something was wrong, that I wasn't in the right place, as wonderful as it seemed. I remember wondering if I was going crazy, but then it'd all smooth out again. Everything was going _too_ good, you know? Everything was perfect! We always won in the end. And...and that was the problem. Real life _isn't_ perfect! It's all ups and downs and bad, terrible shit with the good!"

She barely felt Chloe reach out and lay a tentative hand on her shoulder, as she continued to sob.

"And now, I remember, right at the very end! She came to me, and I think she was trying to save me!"

"Who? Who did, Max?" Chloe softly asked.

"Me! A version of me! All - sounds fucked up - but like, a reality cop? I remember her talking now, saying shit about rogue sub-timelines that annihilate themselves. Like a bubble? I dunno! I dunno. But she told me I had to wake up. Like I had to, or the world would end. And I did. I did and…" She turned her face around to glance over her shoulder, looking at Chloe dead on.

"I didn't want to. And in the end, when I started to convince myself it was only just a dream, that none of it could be real? You're right, Chloe. If all of that was actually real, I don't know if I can stand to live with everything I've lost." Her voice dropped low, enough so that she wasn't certain if Chloe could hear it.

"I can't stand the thought that I've lost you."

She let herself be enfolded by Chloe's arms, allowed everything trapped inside to come rushing out at long last in great sobbing fits, until there was nothing left.

Max was surprised, then, when she felt herself being let go, and Chloe's boots crunched through the snow, walking away from her. A stab of fear, that perhaps history was repeating itself, nearly tore her in two, as she forced her eyes open. When her vision cleared, she saw Chloe standing ten feet away, her back framed by the setting sun, arms held out at each side.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?"

Chloe took a deep breath, and said, "The only damn thing I can think of. I'm sorry, Max. I'm not great with words. I don't have any idea what to say to make what you're going through easier, because holy shit, is it fucked up. So I'm hoping that maybe if I just go and do something wild and crazy, you'll stop crying for at least a few minutes because - because it's breaking my heart seeing you like this!"

With that, she fell perfectly backwards, landing on the snow with a soft thump. Immediately, she started to thrash her arms and legs up and down.

"Okay, Max, is this helping? Is this weird enough for y-aaaaaah! Holy shit, that's co-o-old! Oh God. Oh God, please say this is making you feel better. I swear, I've got snow in my buttcrack now!"

Max watched, as if in a daze. In her mind's eye, she saw Chloe, both as she was now, and as she had been, with her violet hair, extra tattoos and additional years of growth and experience. She saw them both together as one, and realized that this is _exactly_ the sort of thing Chloe, _her_ Chloe, in a blind and desperate panic to cheer her up, would do.

Max suddenly burst into a low laugh that grew in intensity, prompting something similar from the other girl. She pulled herself up to her feet and trotted over, plopping herself down on her back, with just enough space to make a snow angel of her own.

"I immediately regret this!"

At the same time, she had to admit that as cold as the ground was under her back, she'd never felt warmer in her whole life.

A minute or two later, they both rose up to their feet, shaking from the snow and ice that had slipped in under their clothes. Without pausing to think about it, they wrapped an arm around each other's waist, huddling in close for warmth. Chloe brushed back a few errant strands of blue hair from her face and huffed, "H-hey. Gotta admit. That worked, right?" There was a hopeful glint in her eye, the kind that spoke volumes, praying that she hadn't just made a complete fool of herself for nothing.

Max shook the snow out of her hair, laughing through her nose. "Okay. Yes. Your crazy, nonsensical plot actually worked, and...and thanks."

"Well good." Chloe said. "Because I don't do that shit for just anyone, dawg. I've got an image to uphold."

"Oh yes, Lady Cool Cat. What would the other eighth-graders think if only they could see the real you?" Max smirked, before looking up, her eyes locking onto Chloe's.

She couldn't recall the exact chain of events that occurred next. It was so sudden, intuitive and natural, that she couldn't remember if she was the first to lean in, or if it had been Chloe. Max realized one moment, they'd shared a knowing look, and the next, their lips met in a kiss. A simple, sweet, soft little thing, like snow drifting across a field, but warmer than the springtime sun. It was as bone-soothingly gentle as it was energizing and passionate, all from what was little more than a brushing together of two pairs of lips.

Max jerked her head back and cleared her throat; naturally, she assumed she must have made the first move, completely ignoring the fact that it was Chloe's fingers that were pressed against her cheek the whole time.

"S-sorry. Not good, Max bad touch do. Ugggh." She turned away, covering her face with one hand. "It's not fair to you. Whatever happened to me, or whatever I _think_ happened, I shouldn't be expecting you to…"

Chloe quickly cut her off. "Max, that was - honestly, that was all me. Well, mostly me." She rubbed the back of her neck, smiling wryly.

Shaking her head, Max replied, "That's sweet, taking the blame so I won't feel so embarrassed, but it's not fair to you. You're not - ummm - her. I mean, maybe you _are,_ in so many ways, but - ah fuck! This is complicated."

Chloe breathed hard through her nose and crossed her arms. The look on her face wasn't precisely one of indignation, but the cant of her head said everything.

"Why can't I be the one to kiss you, Max? Don't act like I'm some hella naive girl who-" Chloe winced, as she fought to bite back the rancor that had been the base of her standard response to most people over the past few years, before continuing.

"When I woke up this morning, I didn't go in with some master plan to do anything but apologize to you. And after I read through some of your journal, I just - I couldn't believe it was all made up. That it wasn't true, at least for you. You and me - her. Were so fucking happy together, the way you made it sound. You both must have seem something hella-mazing in each other, and I thought…" Chloe took another deep breath through her nose, "I wanted to try and see it, too. Figured if we hung out for a little while, you know, just normal, like the friends we used to be, I'd finally get the chance."

"Oh." Max struggled to tamp down her heart, to keep from reading too much into what she was hearing. What happened at the diner delivered such a cruel blow to her faith, the notion that she and Chloe were predestined to come together, and she didn't want to be hurt again. But what the bluenette was telling her now was like a ray of nurturing sunlight shining brightly on a withering rose. "So. Did you?"

Chloe laughed and said, "What do you think? I mean, it's been a pretty good day? Yeah? Right?"

Max nodded.

 _Yeah, actually. Probably the most fun I've had since I woke up in the hospital._

"It was just the two of us, hanging out like we used to. And after one movie together, it's like those missing five years never happened. I'm not saying - oh. Fuck! I don't know _what_ I'm saying, other than, I really liked finally spending time with you today, as an actual person. As my best friend, the one who finally came back to me after all that time. And...and I want to keep spending more time with you. That's all I'm asking for." Chloe reached out, and took her hand. There was a noticeable catch in the blunette's voice as she concluded, "That's not crazy, right? To just keep spending time together, and see what happens? Because I'm really happy right now, Max. For the first time since Rachel…" Chloe stopped short, swallowing back a sob. "...and...and thanks again. You were the one who gave me closure. Even though those fuckers killed her, they didn't get away with it. Because of _you_." She reached up pinching her fingers across the bridge of her nose to staunch what few tears were forming.

Max felt her fingers thread through Chloe's and clasp tightly around. In a tiny voice, she said, "You're just like her, you know. But different, too. I can see it. Like dice, you know? The same number of pieces, the same shapes. And it's all in the way you throw them that changes the numbers around, a little bit. But it's still the same basic elements. I don't want you to think I'm only trying to cram you into a missing hole in my heart right now…." She trailed off, and bowed her head, resting it against the other girl's.

"Yeah, today _was_ pretty great. And I'd like to find out what happens, down the road. I'm still not sure whether I was stuck in another reality, with another version of you, or whether everything was just completely made up in my head, my idealized vision of what _I_ wanted you to be. But I'd really like to find out...Che."

They stayed that way, holding hands and standing so close together for a good couple of minutes, before Chloe finally spoke up. "G-great. Um." She licked her lips, and then continued, "I hate to be a buzzkill, but I promised I'd get you back for the last bus of the day to Seattle. If we go now, we'll probably still make it. 'Cause, you've been through a lot, you know? And I'm sure your folks really miss you right now."

Max shook her head slightly. "Wait, what? Maybe I don't want to go now? I mean, I'm not sure where I'd stay the night, but maybe I could crash with..?" She stopped short, as she finally understood what Chloe was trying to do for her. If they really wanted to be sure that this was something more, something real, beyond the confines of a mutual rebound, Chloe for Rachel, and Max for her dream vision, some time apart would be healthy.

Chloe drew her lips up into a hopeful smile. "It's just going back to Seattle, right? Y-y'are coming back after New Years and shit?"

Max grinned brightly. "Yeah. I'll be back. I mean, I'd hate to bail out and not get my diploma, one more semester to go. And...ah...other...stuff."

"Other stuff. Heh." Chloe repeated, before turning to the side and guiding Max along the path back towards her truck. "Hey, I think I'm gonna dash through a drive-through on the way to the bus stop. I am so fucking hungry right now."

"Hah! Che, I swear, you're the only stoner I know who gets indica-style munchies from smoking a pure sativa. Just do me a favor, after I'm gone; if some strange woman in a sleigh suddenly pulls up and offers you a box of turkish delight, you stay the fuck away from her."

"Mmmmm. Dunno. If she looks like Elsa, I might not be able to help myself."

Max smacked Chloe's shoulder with the back of her palm.

"Oh, c'mon. Like _you_ wouldn't jump into her lap if you had the chance to eat her turkish delight?"

Max burst out laughing, and then leaned against Chloe a little more, "Fuck you for being right."

* * *

They didn't share another kiss that evening, but they didn't need to; the bright, blossoming promise of a better future wrapped them both up together like a thick, comforting quilt.

They had time for quick, tight hug, regarding each other with knowing, goofy smiles as they pulled away, still holding hands.

"Can I call you?" Max asked. "To let you know I got home safe?"

"Fuckin' better." Chloe said with a laugh. "Or I'll have to roll up in the truck and hunt you down and oh shit that really sounds creepy as I hear the words actually coming out of my mouth."

"Not creepy. Very sweet." Max replied, giving Chloe's hand a final squeeze before letting go. "Even though someday, I'd love to have you come up to Seattle so I can show you around. Although you're right, I really do need some time to sift through all the pieces of my life - lives - and fit them back together into a new shape."

"Well, just as long as you let _me_ be one of those pieces." Chloe mused.

There was so much that Max could have said at that moment; an outpouring of emotion that strained the dam of her heart. She said nothing at first, instead wrapped her arms tightly around Chloe's neck, hugged one last time, and planted a tiny kiss on her cheek.

Chloe gave a giddy laugh under her breath, wrapping her arms around herself and peering at Max.

"Have a safe trip back. And Merry Christmas, and New Year's and stuff. Oh! And tell your folks hi for me."

"Yeah. You too."

Reluctantly, Max ascended the steps up into the bus, the driver sharply closing the door behind her. She grabbed a seat as quickly as she could, peering out a window, so that she could wave to the other girl, and keep her in her sights as long as possible. As the bus finally pulled out of sight and began its long journey north, she couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of loneliness pierce through her heart. She wondered if she was making the right decision. Instinctively she looked over her shoulder, and then back towards the driver. For a few seconds, she considered asking him to let her off right here. She'd make her way back to Chloe's house, and then wouldn't that be so romantic, spending Christmas together, and…

 _...no. No, I think Chloe's right. I need a little time, even a few days, to just stand on my own feet and get my bearings. I guess we both need time to process._

She'd be back after the New Year; of that much, Max was certain.

She curled up in her seat and sighed, the urge for a nap overtaking her. The days exertions had been a bit much for her. It would be a good six to eight hours or so until the bus reached Seattle, so she didn't have much else to do in the meantime. A soft, foggy snooze started to suck her down invitingly, and for the first time since she emerged from her coma, Max's dreams weren't filled with sharp, desperate recollections of her past lives, but a gauzy, wistful fairytale hope for the future.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Merry Christmas Eve...Eve! I really did originally intend to wait until tomorrow to publish this, but Jesus, you all know me...I can never stand to wait if I don't have to.

I've actually had this queued up for a while, and I almost released it on Tuesday, but then **rowanred81** came back that morning with a new story after months and months of hiatus, and I...this is going to sounds dumb, but I didn't want to feel like I was trying to take away some of her thunder. So go check out "Pricefield Family Christmas" as well, if you haven't already!

So as some folks know, I have not exactly been productive as of late. I got a month long illness it took a while to fight back from, I've been dealing with a lot of emotional issues from the fallout of the US election, and I've just been burned out in general. I've been trying to get more politically active, so that leaves less of what little time I had to write, anyhow. But I do feel like a bit of the old creative urge is sloooowly creeping back. I actually had some really good brainstorming sessions with friends and fans on more solid ideas for a potential Black Swan sequel - and in that vein, I want to extend a shout out to **zykelator,** **derfy2** and **LonesomeBard.** Also, I'm still committed to the notion of putting out a final Grande Dame coda/sequel before the end of March.

But as the holidays started to roll around, I found myself thinking: "Boy, I'd really like to do a Christmas story again. I so enjoyed the Marshfield piece from last year." But you know how it is, you can't turn inspiration on and off like a switch. I was just at the point where I was absolutely ready to give up on the idea, but then I ended up listening to my favorite Christmas-themed song, The Pogues' "Fairytale of New York". Astute readers will no doubt note that this story was inspired by that tune, as well as being a loose interpretation of the lyrics at a few key points. I just really like the theme, of a relationship that started off wonderful, then hit rock bottom, but just when everything looks lost, there is still a strong note of hope in the end. It didn't come out quite like I would have liked, but it was okay. But this may very well be the last time I visit the RiL-verse, though.

OMFG, I can't believe I almost hit publish without mentioning this - bad Lyta! - but I had a new beta for this particular piece. **Jaing** sent me this very sweet letter a few weeks back - just as I was starting to write this piece - asking if I had need for a beta reader, and as folks know, I am usually rather particular in the editors I work with. Both **Corentin IV** and **NuQueerWarhead** are extremely dear to me, like sisters, and we've had some marvelous working relationships, so I will confess to being a bit unsure initially. But she did a great job, catching a few bits that I definitely would have missed! So thanks so much for that! Who knows, you might be seeing something else from me for proofing in a few weeks or months :)

Anyhow, I want to wrap it up; there's a ton of stuff I could say, but probably shouldn't. This is a very strange time for both my country, and the world. Uncertain, even frightening. 2016 has been a miserable year in many ways, and I would like to offer an appropriate epitaph:

"My idols are dead, and my enemies are in power."

Here's hoping maybe 2017 is...if not better, than at least no worse. At the very least, I'm extremely grateful for the friends, family and community I have here at FFN! (Oh, and AO3 as well..I've started sub publishing there on occasion, too.)


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